Dancing with Detective Danger

by Lynn Crandall

  Ben twirled his pen and eyed the woman. The picture of innocence and frailty. Yet his instincts told him something didn’t fit. “Why the unexpected trip? Did that sort of thing happen much?”

  “Never. Jerry always had at least a day’s notice, usually more.” Sara sat rigid in the chair, chewing her lower lip. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

  Ben stood and walked to the other side of the room. The scent of old coffee and industrial cleaner hung in the station air like smog. But it was familiar, and somehow helped him focus on the case when all he wanted to do was go to Sterling. “What were you doing at nine A.M. the day of the murder?”

  Nearly imperceptibly, Sara flinched. She drew in a deep breath. “I can’t say exactly. I rose at seven o’clock, showered, and ate breakfast. Jerry had already left for work, or at least that’s what I thought.”

  “Okay. Then what?” Ben shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out some change, directing his eyes to the nickels, dimes, and quarters.

  “I worked in my garden,” she said simply.

  He put the coins back into his pocket. He didn’t know what he hoped to discover by talking to the woman. She seemed so flat, so devoid of hopes and dreams. But did that make her an accomplice to murder? “It’s getting to be that time of year, isn’t it? What time did you work in your garden?”

  “Maybe about ten-thirty. I don’t know for sure.”

  “You didn’t talk with anyone or see anyone?”

  “No. Not until Lacey and Sterling called me later in the day.”

  “And why was that? What did they want?”

  Sara cleared her throat and stared at the floor. “They asked me to come to their office. After I got there, they confirmed that Jerry had been having an affair with Pamela and they told me they’d found her dead.” Directing a clearly pained expression at him, she continued. “I believe this is all the same information I told another officer that same day.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry to ask you to go over the sequence of events again. I’m trying to figure out where your husband could be, Mrs. Rutherford. Can you help me with that?”

  “If you’re asking me if I would tell you if I knew, the answer would be I don’t know, Detective. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but, after all, he is my husband. And I would like to talk to him myself.”

  This was the most spunk he’d seen in Sara since meeting her. “So you’re saying your husband hasn’t contacted you, right?”

  Sara sighed and again bit her lower lip. “No, he has not.”

  “No phone calls, no visits.” Maybe if he kept at her, she’d give up something useful.

  “I guess there is one thing that seems odd,” Sara said, looking up quizzically into his face. “Jerry didn’t take any clothes with him to Chicago.”

  “You know that for sure?” There it was. The little bit of new information that makes persistence pay off.

  Again, she sighed. “Yes. Our marriage may seem pretty lacking to you, but I do know when my husband has packed clothes for out of town. I guess I should have thought to mention it before.”

  “That’s understandable. You’ve had some pretty unsettling news to deal with. Thanks again for cooperating, Mrs. Rutherford. I appreciate your patience.” Ben opened the door and waited for Sara to lead out.

  She paused halfway through the doorway. “Detective, are you certain my husband killed that woman?”

  “We’re still investigating,” he answered, his hand on the doorknob.

  “But you found his fingerprints in her home, right?” she pressed.

  “That’s right. But given the nature of their relationship, that would not be considered conclusive evidence.”

  Sara looked down. “I understand.”

  Ben walked her to the front desk and told her goodbye. “Don’t leave town, Mrs. Rutherford. We may need to talk some more.”

  She looked over her shoulder, her eyes solid, unflinching. “Do you think I killed that woman, Detective?”

  “We’re investigating everyone connected to the parties, Mrs. Rutherford. It’s standard procedure.”

  “I understand.”

  Turning back to the pile of papers stacked on his desk, Ben shrugged into his seat, Sara Rutherford’s face still in his mind.

  He wasn’t sure if he didn’t believe her innocence because it was too easy or because his compass was off. That’s what happens when you let your mind wander off work and start feeling sorry for yourself, man.

  Pains in his chest twisted and words echoed up from the past.

  “I love you Ben. But when will you deal with the demons that drive you? What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything, Sterling.”

  “Don’t give me that. You don’t have to prove anything to me. But you have to face your fears before the demons will go away.”

  She’d been like that, always pushing him to explore what made him tick. She knew his past was a cocklebur in his side. But they had always ended up in the same spot. The spot where one boy died and another did not.

  “If you could see yourself as I see you, things would be different, Ben.”

  In his mind’s eye, Ben could still see the love shining warmly from Sterling’s beautiful eyes that night. Feeling so undeserving, he’d made a joke about her poor judgment, just to ease the pain of her belief in him.

  Ben shoved the pile of papers aside with a swift brush of his arm. He hadn’t realized that the love would go away.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hi, Sterling, I’m calling to give you an update on your nephew.”

  Sterling relaxed at her desk. Lacey’s voice lilted cheerily, so she knew things must be looking up. “Okay, let’s have it.”

  “Tyler is doing much better. In fact, he may come home from the hospital tomorrow.”

  “That’s great. I suppose he’ll be grounded for life?” Sterling teased.

  “I’ve been considering it.”

  “Can you put him on the phone?”

  “Sure, sis.”

  “Hi, Aunt Sterling.” The little voice over the phone sent Sterling’s heart soaring.

  “Hi, champ. What’s this I hear about you trying out your wings and getting a silly bump on your head?”

  The delightful giggle assured Sterling that her nephew was on the mend.

  “I don’t have any wings, Aunt Sterling. I wish I did, because then I could fly out of here.” The little guy’s voice lost its happy and turned glum. “There’s nothing to do here and Mom won’t let me get out of bed even.”

  “Not even get out of bed? You poor sweetie,” she gushed, imagining her little nephew’s patience waning. “Well you get all rested and when you come home, you and I will do something fun. You can be thinking about what you want to do.”

  “Could we go get pizza? The food here has been sort of yucky.”

  “Sure we could.”

  “Just you and me?” Excitement bubbled in Tyler’s voice.

  “Just you and me, cutie. Kisses!”

  “Kisses! Here’s Mom.”

  “Sounds like you and my son are making a date. Thanks for cheering him up, Sterling.”

  “My pleasure. He’s my favorite little guy, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Sterling detected weariness in her sister’s voice. And something else. “How are you holding up, sis?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Sterling. I’m better than I have been in a long time. You could say it’s kind of a miracle.”

  “You know I don’t believe in miracles. But I do believe in you. You’re pretty resilient, and apparently so is your little son.” Sterling sensed something under the radar about her sister, but decided against pursuing it over the phone.

  “So how
are things coming with Sara’s case? Or should I say Jerry’s case?”

  Sterling straightened her back. “I’m looking into various aspects of the investigation.”

  “Wow. That was pat. Why do I suspect you’re holding something back?”

  “Because you have a suspicious nature?” Sterling could easily imagine her sister’s face lighting with curiosity. It wasn’t that she was meddlesome — she just took the role of Big Sister seriously and always had.

  “I know an evasion when I hear one. Okay, I won’t pry. But you have to promise to fill me in on what’s going on, because I know something is.”

  “Lacey, you know I wouldn’t hold back information on a case.”

  “I’m not referring to the case.”

  “Oh.”

  Lacey laughed. “You can’t escape me. I’m only interested in your best interest, especially where Ben Kirby is concerned.”

  “Hadn’t you better check on my nephew or something?” Sterling asked, almost wishing her sister could guide her when it came to Ben. Unfortunately, when it came to matters of the heart, Lacey was all emotion, no logic. Sensible was what Sterling needed, not fairy dust and rainbows. “Besides, I’m trying to focus on the case. I found a couple of items that I suspect have something of value to offer about the case. It’s Jerry’s day planner and a key of some sort. I haven’t told Ben about them. I need to figure out stuff first.”

  “I know,” Lacey said, sounding sympathetic. “I’ll be in to work as soon as I can.”

  Sterling hung up the phone and adjusted her thoughts. Unless I want to let Lacey down, I’d better figure out what’s happened to my client’s husband.

  But it would take more than determination to make room in Sterling’s thoughts for Sara’s problems with her husband. Ben called to her. Relentlessly. She knew him too well to be able to completely deaden herself to his needs.

  Sterling ran her fingers through her hair, restless with the gnawing truths of Ben’s life. Not many people knew that the passion driving his police work sprang from self-inflicted pain. Ben kept his past to himself.

  But Sterling knew all about it. She knew that he’d lived with death as she had. That his parents had been killed in a car accident when he was nine. That he’d been sent to live with an aunt and uncle. And only she knew that the uncle had abused Ben and blamed him for the accidental death of his cousin.

  Sterling reviewed the facts in her head just as a police officer would, but with none of the detachment. Ben’s story still touched her heart.

  The two boys had snuck away from chores and had been swimming in a nearby creek on a hot summer afternoon. But the fun turned tragic when Ben’s cousin jumped off a bridge into the creek and hit his head on a rock. Ben had jumped in and pulled the boy out of the water, but death had come instantaneously with a broken neck.

  Ben had suffered the blame simply because he’d broken the rules to enjoy a little fun, a little freedom. His uncle had dealt harshly with him. What was worse, Ben accepted the blame. It drove him, a mindless compulsion always trying to right the wrong he felt responsible for.

  Would Ben continue to blame himself for the rest of his life?

  Sterling shook her head. Maybe she did love Ben, but nothing had changed. Her work needed her attention and her work was where she could control her life.

  She’d nearly forgotten about the copy of the newspaper clipping about her father’s death and her number scribbled on Pamela’s business card. It would be pretty easy to connect their appearance at the crime scene as deliberate on the part of the killer. But why plant those particular items? It seemed just as likely that Pamela and Jerry had learned that his wife had hired Aegar Investigations and were planning to do something about it.

  Jerry Rutherford’s daily planner sat in front of her; the odd-looking key confiscated from his desk lay beside it. It struck her as slightly peculiar that the man relied on such a low-tech tool as the planner. But she couldn’t question it too much. Unlike many of their contemporaries, she and Lacey had little patience with computers, much less the many gadgets available to their profession. Of course she used technology, she’d be foolish not to. But give her something solid she could put her fingers on and fill her senses with any day.

  She’d been pondering the two objects for hours, but their secrets wouldn’t budge.

  Jerry’s life seemed on the surface to be pretty predictable. Work, meetings, lunches, more work, and more meetings. Sterling had first hoped the planner would reveal names and addresses or the whereabouts of a safety deposit box to fit the key. Of course, in her fantasy, this safety deposit box would somehow lead her directly to Jerry.

  No such luck.

  How did the pieces of this case fit together? Why would Jerry have killed his mistress? To where had he disappeared? Short of the earth swallowing him up, the man had to be somewhere. She just had to think.

  Then she knew. To solve this case, she must go back to the beginning. To Pamela Witt’s condo.

  • • •

  Sterling parked her car a few blocks away from the condo and slipped into the backyard. Sure, the cops wouldn’t be too pleased to know what she had in mind but she had to look around.

  Getting inside was no problem. She jimmied the lock on the patio door and slid in. This time only the stale air of the closed-up condo met her, rather than the huge dog.

  The place had already been searched by the LPD, Sterling knew. They’d collected evidence and scoured the condo for information. Nothing had come of it yet. Of course, the cops already thought they had their killer; they just needed to identify a motive. Her gut told her to look for herself. To look beyond the obvious.

  Sterling headed straight down the white-carpeted hallway to the pale pink bedroom. The brass bed lay unmade, its rose-colored comforter tossed carelessly at the foot, no doubt the way it had been left the morning Pamela died.

  Sterling pulled open the door to the expansive walk-in closet, flipped on the light switch, and walked inside. Designer shoes of every color sat neatly in little stacked cubicles on one end. She thumbed through the many clothes hanging along the walls and noted their expensive labels.

  Outside the closet stood a mahogany dresser. Riffling through the dresser drawers, Sterling didn’t know exactly what she hoped to find, but she did uncover more information about Pamela. Cashmere sweaters and designer underwear. This woman sure had expensive taste.

  Sterling pursed her lips and scanned the room and its contents in a long, deliberate sweep. Hmm. Something’s missing. There’s no jewelry box.

  Now Sterling knew what she’d come for. A woman like Pamela would unquestionably own jewelry. And it would be lovely, extravagantly priced jewelry. Beautiful gold chains, pearls, and gemstones, she imagined. The kind of stuff kept in a safe. Sterling didn’t even bother to look behind any of the pictures hanging on the walls.

  She went to the closet and shoved aside the clothes. Nothing. No, she thought, that would be too obvious. Deftly, she felt along the edges of the wooden shoe cubicles.

  Bingo. Her efforts were rewarded with finding a lever discreetly hidden in the beveled edge of one of the cubbyholes. Sterling pulled out the red leather pumps sitting there and pressed the lever. A door at the back of the cubbyhole popped open, revealing the contents of the safe. Boxes. She opened one, then another, and found what she’d expected. Costly jewelry.

  A large envelope lying along the wall of the safe caught Sterling’s attention and she reached for it.

  Suddenly, Sterling felt a cold chill sweep over her body. She stopped and listened. Was someone in the condo? Slowly, she peeked out of the closet, the uneasy feeling still sitting at the pit of her stomach.

  But only the sound of birds chirping outside the bedroom windows met her ears.

  Still spooked, Sterling stepped back into the closet, quickly pulled
out the envelope from the safe, and took a look at the contents. Satisfied, she stuffed the envelope under her jacket, closed the safe, and returned the shoes to the cubbyhole.

  Swiftly, she closed the closet door and stole down the hallway, past the bathroom, and through the kitchen. A breath of fresh air brushed her face and she froze, her gaze frantically searching for its origin.

  There it was. Lace curtains delicately floated on a sweet spring breeze wafting in through an open window in the den. A window that had not been open when she’d entered the condo. Did this mean the rooster had come home?

  Stealthily, Sterling retraced her steps to the bedroom, looking behind each door and every drape for the intruder, expecting to find the wayward husband Jerry.

  When she felt satisfied no one remained hiding somewhere in the condo, she scrutinized the windowsill for fingerprints. Damn it. Completely clean.

  Certain she wasn’t mistaken about an intruder, Sterling stepped into the afternoon sunshine and glanced around the lawn and nearby houses.

  Sunlight filtered through the leaves of maple and oak trees. A slight wind tossed the daffodils and tulips blooming in the yard next door. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but still the creepy feeling weighed heavy inside her.

  As she closed the back porch door, she had all she could do to keep from bolting to her car parked down the street.

  • • •

  “Whoa!” Ben nearly collided with Sterling at the back corner of the condo. Instinctively, he put his hands to her shoulders to keep from hurting her.

  She turned wide, frightened eyes up at him. “Ben! What are you doing here?”

  He dropped his hands. In a moment, he’d pull her close but she didn’t want that. Not even if she felt scared down to her beautiful toes. “What am I doing here? Wait a minute, babe. What are you doing here?”

  Sterling seemed uneasy, shifting her gaze away from him. “Don’t get all hot and bothered,” she said. “I’m investigating, remember?” She glanced over her shoulder at the back porch.

  “What brought you here?” Ben couldn’t help but follow the direction of her eyes. The porch seemed unremarkable, with only the lilac bushes swaying in the wind catching his attention.